Chapter 28 (J): The General
From the familiarity of the path the Order’s men point me along, it seems the General’s office- or whatever the proper term would be in this instance- was along the path I followed to meet the doctor earlier.
“I think you just passed it,” Calypso notes. Turning to look, I notice a door on my left I had just walked past. Save for a small, easily missable placard reading “General’s Office” on it, there is nothing about the door to indicate that anything special resides on the other side. I nearly thank Calypso audibly before realizing how terrible a mistake doing so here would be. I hope a nod and a “Hm” is enough to get my intent to her, as I raise my hand and knock on the door.
An invitation comes from the other side. “Come in.” Cautiously, I push the door open and enter the room. The interior is furnished somewhat sparsely, only containing a desk, a few shelves of files, and a small assortment of plants that have clearly been desperate to see sunlight for some time now.
“Eugh!” Calypso practically retches, which is not a pleasant sound to have channeled directly into my ear. “None of these shelves are matching colors, the desk is a mess, everything’s placed as randomly around the room as possible, and those plants probably died inside weeks ago! Who decorated this place?! And how do we stop them from ever decorating again?!”
I ignore her remarks as I fix my attention on the man sitting at the horrendously disorganized desk as he finishes writing something in a notebook of some sort by the light of a garish, overly-polished candelabra. He closes the book and looks up at me.
“Ah, I was wondering when you would pay me a visit. Please, take a seat.” He gestures at a nearby chair, which is easily the least visually appealing thing in the room. I reluctantly pull the chair to the opposite side of his desk and sit. I have felt rocks more comfortable than this chair-shaped piece of twisted wood and straw, but it’s probably best to keep my complaints to myself
“How’s your leg feeling?” the man asks.
I see no reason to answer dishonestly. “...Strange. There’s a lot less pain now, though.”
The man nods. “Good, good. I’m glad to hear you’re recovering. …Ah, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I am Isaac Brandel, former General of the Holy Order of Solaris.”
“...My name is Jay. I’m… just a traveler.”
“A well traveled one at that, it seems. That sword is of Gaelan make, is it not?”
“It is? …I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, the little embellishment on the pommel is a quite common pattern on Gaelan blades, but quite rare elsewhere.” I look down at the sword. There’s a small pattern on the pommel, just as the General said. It doesn’t look like anything I can identify.
“...I never paid it much thought. All that I care is that I can rely on it when I need to.”
“That’s a reasonable mindset. That is the point of a sword, after all. …Oh, but look at me, getting sidetracked. I know the Order has a rather… unpleasant public image, and I can’t claim it isn’t well-earned. But I want you to know you can stay here safely as long as you need to. And if- once you’ve fully recovered- you wish to leave, we will make no effort to stop you. I only ask that you spare us your usual treatment of the Order’s members, and perhaps pitch in with cooking now and then.”
Calypso gasps; a response I barely suppress myself. “...Usual treatment? What do you mean?”
The General sighs. “Ever since the war, I’ve been doing what I can to help the survivors of the Order. They never knew anything but the lies the Order fed them. Lies that I, as a bishop and general, unknowingly helped to propagate. The Order never sought out terrible people to join their ranks, they gave good people no chance to learn anything but what they wished for them to learn. Now, I use my position to try and grant them a chance to learn what the Order never allowed, for them to see the world through their own eyes.”
Maybe he’s simply a skilled actor, but his claims and plea seem genuine. And he even made a point of distinguishing the Order from Daedalus. Obviously, he knows who I am. He isn’t even trying to hide it. So… how should I respond?
“...Alright. I can’t exactly afford to leave now, with my leg how it is. I’ll leave once it’s healed. If by then I haven’t been given a reason to doubt your claims, and you’ve done nothing to give away my presence to anyone, I promise I won’t harm anyone here.”
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The man visibly relaxes as he lets out a relieved sigh. He looks far more tired, now that his facade of confidence has dropped. “...Thank you, Jay. You have my gratitude. And yes, I swear I will do nothing to put you in danger of discovery.”
“Thank you. …And allow me to make something clear. When I ask you don’t give my presence away to anyone, I truly mean ‘anyone’. Not Daedalus, not the Order, not the Knights, anyone.”
“Not the Knights? But the Knights stand opposed to Daedalus and the Order, so… Why?“
“...I have reason to believe Daedalus has managed to get someone into their ranks. Someone who’s part of their anti-Daedalus units. Probably someone with a significant amount of authority. I can’t afford to trust the Knights until I learn exactly who it is and they’ve been exposed for what they are.”
The general looks thoughtful. “I… I see… That’s certainly a good reason to be wary of them. Very well, I’ll neglect to mention you in my next report to them.”
His next report? …I suppose he must be cooperating with the Knights so they turn a blind eye to what he’s doing here.
“Now if you’ll excuse my rudeness,” he continues, “but you look practically starved. I believe Richard mentioned something about malnutrition after examining you. Why don’t you get something to eat from the kitchen? I can’t imagine you find many opportunities for a well-cooked meal in your line of work.”
I practically jump at the chance to not spend another moment in this horrendous chair, and quickly stand. “Thank you. Er, where is the kitchen, exactly?”
“Turn left, and it will be just down the hall. There’s a placard on the door that should clearly label it as such, if the smell of cooking food from behind it doesn’t give it away.”
I nod and walk to the door, before looking back. “...Thank you.”
He smiles kindly. “Not at all.” I can’t help but return a faint smile of my own before walking out the door.
“Well, he seemed pretty nice!” Calypso says. “I was expecting some mean, gruff giant with a massive beard and a thousand swords, or something. But he kinda just seemed like a normal guy with a horrible design sense.”
I don’t see anyone, so it’s probably safe to respond. “A thousand swords?”
“I dunno. Maybe some ancient ‘holy relics’, or something like that. I’ve never met a General before.”
“Aren’t there plenty in the books you read?”
“I’ve been reading these same books for a thousand years. I can barely tell which are realistic and which aren’t anymore. Anyway, you just passed the kitchen.” Turning around, I realize I did.
“...Oh.”
“That’s twice you’ve done that now. Pay more attention.”
I elect not to respond, instead slowly pushing open the door. The kitchen is well-lit, with knives, utensils, and other cooking-related tools all over the place. On top of a countertop sits a loaf of bread on a cutting board. And lying sprawled on the floor right before it is someone’s motionless body.
“What…? Why are they-”
I rush over to the person. They don’t appear injured, and they’re still breathing, but they’ve completely unconscious.
“...They’re alive.
“What happened? Did they faint, or something?” I look around the area. Something’s missing, but it takes me a moment to realize what.
“...They were cutting bread, but there’s no knife near them.”
“Did someone- “
Before Calypso can finish her sentence, a loud “CRACK” rings out from the hall. I rush back out in time to see a flash of light and hear a second “CRACK” from the General’s office. Drawing my sword, I run to the door and throw it open. The General is slumped against a wall, blood seeping through his clothes around his abdomen. Standing before him is a man dressed in similar clothes to my own, holding a bloody bread knife in one hand. He spins to face me, and I see his cloak is badly burned. Noticing my blade, he raises his free hand and fires a large bolt of electricity at me. My protection forms in time to nullify the blast. Taking advantage of his surprise, all it takes is a quick lunge to slip my blade through the burned hole in his clothes and between his ribs. Judging by where the stab landed, it likely went right through a lung, and possibly his heart. With a gurgling sound, the man falls to the floor, and doesn’t move again. Hearing the sound of people running down the hall, I withdraw my blade from his chest and point it at the door. When the first to round the corner are Toby and Richard, I lower the blade. The General groans, indicating that he’s still alive, and Richard runs over to him.
“What- What happened?!” Toby asks. “You! Tell me-”
“Shut up,” the doctor interjects. “Both of you, help me carry him to the medical chamber. He needs immediate attention.”
“R-right!”